


Remember Us (like we used to be)

by syriala



Series: Deter Week 2019 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18429935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: “Derek, sweetheart, what is going on? Last I remember, you were sixteen. And look at you now. How old are you?”Derek froze right up, stiltedly extracting himself from Peter’s arms and taking several steps back.He should have known. He should have known right away, because there was no way in hell that after everything Derek did to their family, and to Peter, that Peter would still want anything to do with him.





	Remember Us (like we used to be)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Deter Week Day 5 - Dealer's Choice and I went with temporary amnesia because the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Derek could feel the pack bond springing to life inside his chest. He had no clue what was happening, or where it suddenly came from, so cautiously following it seemed like the best course of action. He hesitated briefly when he realized that it was leading him to the old house, frozen almost mid-step in the middle of the preserve, because why would anyone even go there?

But he eventually marched on, determined to find out what the hell was going on here. He stopped again, right in front of the house when he heard a heartbeat, too fast to be anything else but confused and afraid and Derek distantly thought that it sounded familiar.

He tracked the beat around the house, the person clearly going into every room, and they became more agitated with each one. Derek waited until the heartbeat was coming off the upper level before he crept into the house, silently making his way upstairs.

He was counting on the fact that the person would be too distraught to listen to any heartbeat and when no reaction came, he allowed himself a small smile at being right.

The smile fell from his face quickly enough though, when he carefully walked up to the doorway to get a good look at the intruder.

“Peter?” he croaked out, because he would know Peter anywhere.

Peter whirled around, clearly surprised, but he looked at Derek with confusion. He tilted his head, subtly scenting the air and Derek’s heart fell.

“Derek?” Peter asked, clearly unsure and Derek felt like throwing up.

“Peter,” he whispered again, because it couldn’t be.

Peter was dead, killed by Derek’s own hand because nothing of the man he loved had been left, and Derek had buried him here, in this house, not even five days ago.

“Look at you,” Peter said, and he sounded awed, though his scent was panicked and sad. “You grew up so gorgeous.”

“What—,” Derek started but then couldn’t help but run forward and pull Peter into a bone-crushing hug.

“I have missed you so much,” he whispered into Peter’s neck, and while Peter returned the hug, he didn’t relax into it.

“Derek, sweetheart, what is going on? Last I remember, you were sixteen. And look at you now. How old are you?”

Derek froze right up, stiltedly extracting himself from Peter’s arms and taking several steps back.

He should have known. He should have known right away, because there was no way in hell that after everything Derek did to their family, and to Peter, that Peter would still want anything to do with him.

“I’m twenty-three,” he told Peter without looking at him, so he only heard the sharp intake of breath.

“Holy shit,” Peter said with emphasis. “What happened? Where is everyone?”

Derek’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, because he had never needed to say it out loud, had never needed to tell anyone that their whole family was dead, and he didn’t know how to break it to Peter. Let alone explain that it was all his fault.

“Derek, darling, just tell me what happened,” Peter coaxed, and Derek swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“They are all dead,” he mumbled. “There was a fire,” he went on, but then stopped when Peter reeled him in for another hug, this time melting against Derek like he used to.

And Derek had intended to tell him the truth, the words _I killed them all_ on the tip of his tongue, but this Peter didn’t look at him with barely concealed hate and Derek couldn’t bring himself to say it. This was Peter from before the fire, the one who loved Derek and who knew how to laugh and who played games with his little niblings; this was the Peter Derek missed every day, like a chopped off limb.

And he just couldn’t destroy all of that.

He figured the amnesia would go away sooner or later; Laura had watched enough rom-coms for Derek to know exactly like this would go, especially considering the enhanced healing, so he thought it couldn’t hurt to just keep a few details to himself.

Peter would hate him again soon enough after all.

~*~*~

It wasn’t quite that easy.

Peter took two days to digest that everyone he loved was dead and buried, that he had lost the better part of a decade to a coma and then to death (at least that was what Derek told him) but it didn’t change the fact that he was as easily affectionate with Derek as he had been before the fire.

Peter grieved for the two days he allowed himself, keeping Derek close and in reach, clearly afraid that he would vanish too, and he peppered Derek with love and kisses and hugs.

Derek, in turn, allowed himself those two days to bask in that affection, in that love, before he distanced himself again. It would be hard enough already, once Peter remembered and started to hate him again, and Derek didn’t need that to happen while he was cuddled up to Peter.

On the third day Peter sat Derek down and very imploringly begged Derek to “Please don’t tell me you live here, in this burned out shell of a home.”

Derek shook his head, and watched relieve wash over Peter’s face, only to be replaced with horror when Derek told him that he was currently staying in an abandoned train station.

Peter didn’t like that answer much better.

Derek didn’t know how Peter did it, what strings he had to pull, but a week after Derek had found him in the house, Peter was leading him into a new apartment.

“Isn’t that so much better, pup? Isn’t this a much better home?” he asked when Derek looked around and he could see it.

Could see them curled up on the couch, arguing over movies like they used to. He could see them in the kitchen, Peter despairing over Derek’s non-existent cooking skills while Derek laughed and laughed. He could see them in bed together, sleeping and comfortable, could imagine them fuck there to their hearts content but also just exist next to each other.

It would be so easy for this apartment to become their home, their den and something sharp and ugly twisted in Derek’s chest.

He didn’t unpack his duffle bag. Like this, it would be easier to run at a moment’s notice, once Peter remembered what Derek did to him. He wouldn’t want Derek around then.

~*~*~

“What did I do?” Peter asked out of the blue one evening, while they prepared dinner. Or rather as Peter prepared dinner and Derek watched from a safe distance.

“What?” Derek asked, startled out of his thoughts and when he looked up, he found Peter watching him.

“You’re distant. You’re deliberately keeping yourself closed off, and I want to know what I did. And how I can fix it.”

Derek pressed his lips together. He didn’t know how to explain that he was keeping his distance to protect himself. Didn’t know how to explain that he would love nothing more than to fall into this thing with Peter again, go back to the easy, comfortable, loving relationship they had before, but couldn’t because he could never stand losing Peter again.

Like this, it was easier for him. There was nothing for Derek to lose, if he didn’t let Peter close again.

But he didn’t know how to explain that without making Peter hate him again and so he just awkwardly shrugged.

Peter’s face fell at that, and Derek wrecked his brain for something reassuring to say.

“It’s not—,” he started and then took a moment to actually think it over. “I’ve been alone so long. I don’t—I just don’t remember how to be _with_ someone anymore,” he explained and when he looked at Peter again, he wasn’t sure if the pain and worry on his face was any better than his hurt look from before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peter breathed out, food forgotten on the stove as he came over to cup Derek’s cheek in his hand. “You’re not alone any longer.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, but didn’t voice what he was really thinking. _I just wonder how long that lasts._

~*~*~

Derek had only been gone for an hour but when he came back, Peter was sitting at the table and Derek could tell that he had his memories back in an instant. Gone was the open look on his face, the ever-present faint smirk on his lips. Instead, his face was hard and closed off and his eyes told Derek all he needed to know.

Their time together was over.

“I’ll—just get my bag then,” Derek said, heart in his throat, eyes burning like he was about to burst into tears any second now.

He had prepared for this; knew that it was inevitable. But it still hurt more than anything else.

“Is it because I killed Laura?” Peter asked and Derek stopped in his retreat, confused by that question.

“Is what because of Laura?”

“You keeping your distance. Did I—did I kill whatever we had, every chance we ever had, when I killed her?”

“She was your alpha and left you behind when you needed the pack the most. I hate that she’s gone, and I hate how she died, but you were feral at the time and I don’t hold it against you,” Derek explained and watched Peter’s face twist.

“What is it then? What did I do to make you hate me like this? You won’t even relax around me, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You didn’t even unpack. Why would you come here in the first place if you were always going to leave me again?”

“It’s not what you did to me, Peter, it’s what I did to you,” Derek chocked out. “I killed them, I killed them all and I left you just like Laura did and then I killed _you_. I know that even one of those is unforgivable, but all three—I always knew that as soon as you remembered I would have to leave again, that you wouldn’t want me around anymore. It’s you who hates me, and I get it, I really do, Peter, but I can’t—I couldn’t pretend that everything was fine for the last few weeks.”

Derek was breathing hard at the end of his triad and Peter was staring at him with wide eyes, surprise clearly written all over his face.

“I don’t hate you,” Peter told him, and Derek scoffed. “Hell, I don’t even blame you for any of these things.”

“Right,” Derek spit out. “That’s why you almost killed me, why you looked at me with such hate. Because you don’t blame me.”

“Darling,” Peter started and Derek flinched at the endearment, causing Peter to frown. “I really don’t hate you, and I don’t blame you. Kate killed our family, not you. It was Laura’s decision to leave me behind; she was your alpha and you had to obey. And you killing me was the kindest gesture you could ever show me. I wasn’t only feral, Derek, I was completely insane.”

But Derek couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t make sense in his head.

“You hate me,” he whispered, clinging to the one thing he had believed for the last few months, and Peter stood up at that.

“I don’t, darling. I love you,” he said, carefully coming closer. “I love you the same I have always loved you,” he told Derek softly and Derek could see the Peter from last week, the one who was still happy and content and a lot softer around the edges.

Derek couldn’t stop the trembling that started in his hands and just spread out, but Peter was right there, taking his hands in his and bringing them up to his chest, pressing them right over his heart, as if Derek hadn’t been listening to his heartbeat all this time.

“I love you,” Peter repeated, and Derek almost choked on a sob, wrangling his hands free so he could sling them around Peter’s neck and pull him close, hiding himself in Peter’s embrace.

“I love you, too,” Derek muttered, pressing the words into Peter’s skin.

They stayed like that for a very long time.

“Does that mean you’re finally going to unpack?” Peter eventually asked, but he still didn’t move away. “Because it doesn’t much feel like a home when you always have one foot out of the door.”

“I’m going to unpack,” Derek promised and pulled away only to lean in and press a soft kiss to Peter’s lips. “We’re going to make this a home.”

He still remembered what he had thought the first time Peter had shown this apartment to Derek; how easy it would be to just fall into a domestic life with Peter here. And now there was nothing keeping him from doing exactly that.


End file.
